All Who Wander
by Remmak
Summary: In the heat and horror of the Capitol Wasteland, three lonely souls learn that family is what you make it. Charon, Vaultie, Dogmeat. Fallout 3
1. Prologue

**Author's Notes** - Yee! My first trip out of Mass Effect fanfiction! Just a short little prologue, but hopefully a nice enough setup to garner a little interest. This story will primarily feature Charon, Dogmeat, and the Neutral-Karma (plus slightly batty) Vaultie 'Digit'. Maybe a little romance in later chapters? Maybe..._Possibly..._ Like Three-Dog says, stay tuned!

**All Who Wander**

**Prologue:  
**

"Not all who wander are lost."

Charon scanned the horizon and sighed as the crowded vehicle rumbled across the Wasteland noisily. It was a ramshackle old army transport that'd been hacked together by an enterprising trader in order to move goods, but apparently business had gone sour. Instead of being stocked with crates of ammo and armor, the truck bed was now packed with people. Refugees of all shapes and sizes sat shoulder to shoulder, eyeing each other in dismal silence as they trekked towards Rivet City in seek of shelter. All except one, anyway…

"What a load of crap!"

The ghoul threw a quick glance at the speaker and shook his head slightly in amusement. A young woman with rust-colored hair and bangs that obscured her vision sat across from him with a comic book in front of her face. Her left hand was short a pinky; the result of a childhood accident and a likely factor behind the dubious moniker she carried. As he watched her, she closed the book and tore it in half before chucking it unceremoniously into the four winds of the ruined landscape behind her.

"Something wrong, Digit?" Charon asked her. The woman flicked her hair behind a pierced ear and hit him with a hard stare.

"I can't believe people read that garbage!" she declared in a voice loud enough to put their fellow passengers on edge, "If Grognak were a real hero he'd save everyone, not just blonde-haired, blue-eyed bimbos that are more boobs than brains. It's ridiculous!"

The travelers near her exchanged uncomfortable glances with raised eyebrows while a young male passenger muffled a twittering laugh.

"Do the idiots who write those things even stop to consider what a pain in the ass it would be for a barbarian to haul around a defenseless, woe-is-me woman who can't do squat on her own?" Digit continued in a huff, "That comic may call her a 'princess' but you know what I call people like that? _Liabilities, _that's what. You're a fool, Grognak - a fool!"

Charon looked back out towards the wastes to hide his grin. It'd taken him awhile to get used to his current captain's quirky nature, but once he had, he discovered her to be oddly amusing. It was as if the mind of a child laid daydreaming under all of her strict discipline and hard logic. Even the heavy weight of life in the wastes couldn't crush her unusual spirit.

"You know," he mused, "I think you're the first employer I've had with a sense of humor."

"Humor?!" Digit exclaimed, "I'm serious, Charon! Those comics offer up an unrealistic portrayal of women while enforcing the stereotypical archetypes of the strong, dominant male and the weak, submissive female. It's bullshit and it makes me sick! And stop calling me your employer! I've told you how much I hate that."

The ghoul chuckled as a few unnerving glints of light flashed in the distance. He fingered the trigger of his self-designed shotgun warily and focused in on the movement. When his partner realized his attention had been diverted away from her, she understood the brief, light-hearted moment was over and opted to followed his line of sight.

"What are you looking at?" she asked him, trying to get a lock on his target by shielding her eyes with her hand.

"Nothing," he replied, keeping his voice low to avoid alarming one of the many refugees crowded around them, "Not yet, anyway. But with that dust trail and all the noise we're making…well, you do the math."

Digit nodded, "Every raider around knows we're here."

"They won't be able to catch this caravan on foot, but we'll have to be careful once they drop us off," Charon added, "We should be passing near Evergreen Mills soon."

"Okay," the woman replied as she unlatched the metal case in her lap, "I'll start getting our gear ready, you keep playing lookout."

The travelers tried to scoot away from her anxiously as she withdrew a round of ammunition and began loading her weapon.

"Oh!" she started, shooting her head up again as she recalled something, "And Charon, holler if you see any Yao Guai. I need a new pair of boots…"

**The Journey Begins...**


	2. Princess Wasteland

**All Who Wander **

**Chapter One**

"Okay," Digit began as she unfurled a crinkled and badly stained map over the hood of the dented army transport, "You'll want to keep heading east until you reach Megaton. The locals there will help you out with supplies and point you to the nearest crossing over the Potomac - just tell them Digit sent you and you shouldn't have any problems."

The caravan's leader and his handful of hired guards bent over the map to follow the path traced by Digit's dirty fingers. The mercs asked her a few questions about the routes safety, and after giving her honest assessment, their captain dropped his cigarette to the ground and put it out under his boot. The acrid smoke mixed with the dust being blown up all around them and disappeared into the blazing sky.

"Doesn't sound like anything we can't handle," he said, "Got any idea how long we can expect to be the on the road?"

"About a day to Megaton," Charon said from his customary station behind Digit's right shoulder, "But once you hit the river you're going to run into some problems that are gonna slow things down."

The mercenary captain shifted where he stood and gave the ghoul a reproachful glare that suggested he didn't like the man speaking out of turn. Despite the acidic comments forming on his tongue, he looked back to the woman in front.

"What kind of 'problems'?" he asked her gruffly.

"Well, now, I don't know," she replied with feigned innocence and narrowed eyes, "What kind of problems, Charon?"

"I asked you, not him," the captain spat. Digit sighed and waved her submachine gun carelessly.

"Look asshole," she said, "I'm not a very patient person and you're starting to grind my nerves, so if you and your buddies want to make it to Rivet City in one piece, you'll acknowledge the ghoul when he's speaking to you."

"Hah!" the man scoffed as his hand snaked to his side to reach his own weapon, "You've got a lot of nerve threatening the people who just gave you a free ride across the Wastes, girl."

"And you've got a lot of nerve pretending my friend here doesn't exist. Once you idjits pack it up and get rolling again, there will only be two things between you and raiders that are trailing your ass: _him_," Digit said as she gestured to Charon, "And me. Do you really think you can make it to Megaton without a buffer at your back? 'cause seeing as you're bad with directions, I don't think you can."

"Please!" the caravan head interjected as he jumped between Digit and the bristling captain, "We're all tired and hungry and frightened. Everyone is understandably on edge, but I promised these people I'd get them to Rivet City safely, so please, we'll hear anything you have to say."

"Good," Digit replied as she stashed her weapon and crossed her arms, "Charon?"

The ghoul stepped forward to stand alongside her and tapped the spread paper with his index finger.

"It's the bridges," he explained in a matter-of-fact tone, "Most of them are clear enough for your truck to pass through, but it's the weight of the vehicle you're gonna have to worry about. Even if you can find one that hasn't had all it's support pillars destroyed, I'd suggest getting those people out of the back and letting them walk across first. That way, if the damn thing collapses while you're trying to get this rig across, you'll still be able to sleep at night."

"The weight, huh?" the captain mumbled, "I guess you have a point."

"Damn straight he does," Digit said with a grin, "Worth his weight in caps Charon is. Now, unless you have more business with us, we really need to be on our way."

The mercenaries dispersed, grumbling, while the woman re-rolled her map. A small line of sweat began to roll down the caravan head's face as she did so.

"Did you really mean that?" he asked anxiously, "About the raiders?"

Digit tucked the map into the pack on her back and shifted its weight on shoulders.

"It's likely," she said truthfully, "My friend here spotted some activity in those hills behind us just before we stopped, but if makes you feel any better, we've been expecting that." She tapped a dingy, leather-bound case at her hip and gave the worried man a reassuring smile. "With any luck, this'll be enough ammo to make your next trip a bit safer."

"You're not going after them are you?!" the man asked her as his eyes went wide in disbelief. Digit frowned a bit at his words and searched the man's piggy face for something silently. Deciding she couldn't find it, she turned away from him to face the back of the crowded caravan.

"Somebody has to do it," she mused with an acid edge, "Might as well be me."

Charon and the trader watched the leather-clad woman retreat to the end of the line quietly. Once she was out of earshot, the human turned to the ghoul beside him.

"Is she daft?" he asked.

"Nope," the ghoul replied, "Just different."

.oO-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Oo.

Angry remarks buzzed in Digit's skull as she made her way to the rear of the motley travel-train. In addition to the renovated truck, the refugees had collected a few motorcycles and even a small herd of Brahmin; each loaded to the gills with whatever was worth moving through some of the most hostile territory in the Capitol Wasteland.

_Worth moving, but not worth fighting for_, a mental voice said derisively. The woman bit her lip and kicked a can out of the baked dirt to release her gathering frustration. _Cowards…_

She tossed her hair and squinted through the sunlight to where some children were playing catch with a scruffy, dark-haired dog. A woman watched them over them with her hands on her hips, calling out warnings whenever one of the young ones strayed too far from the relative safety of the guardsmen and their guns. The children's happy whoops and easy laughter sounded alien and out of place to Digit, but nonetheless, she found herself choking back the familiar wave of homesickness she tried to tell herself had disappeared. After shaking her head free of surfacing memories, she put her fingers to her lips and blew a whistle.

The frolicking dog perked up instantly at the sound, and after retrieving a tattered tennis ball from a pile of trash, dashed over to his waiting mistress. Squealing kids and the chastising watch-woman chased after him.

"Time to go mutt," Digit said as she fished the ball out of Dogmeat's mouth, "Let's give this back now, okay?"

Dogmeat relinquished the dingy yellow glob and sat back on his haunches expectantly. While Digit wiped the slobbery thing off on her pant leg, the first of the children made his way up to her. The woman groaned inwardly as she prepared for the inevitable.

"You're _leaving_?" the boy whined sadly, "Why?"

Digit straightened up and met the child's pleading eyes reluctantly. Diplomacy had never been her strong suit, and children always made her feel guilty.

"Because," she said weakly, "I already have a home, and it's not in Rivet City."

"Can't you leave Dogmeat with us?" he complained.

"No."

"But _why_?!"

The woman grit her teeth as even more children gathered around her and the animal in question. She tried to think of a reason that a child could appreciate as a little girl buried her face in Dogmeat's neck.

"Because he's my friend," she said finally, "Would you guys like it if you were the only child in the caravan and you had nobody to play with?"

The boy dropped his eyes and dug his toes in the dirt.

"No…" he admitted.

"Then you can understand why I want to take him with me," Digit finished, "I don't like being alone either."

"What about the big man?" the girl piped up.

Digit smiled a little and looked back to where Charon still stood at the front of the caravan.

"Does he look very friendly to you?" she asked.

The little girl shook her pigtails vehemently and drew her small mouth into a line.

"He's scary," the boy offered.

"Yes he is," Digit agreed as she held out the tennis ball, "You want this back now?"

"That's okay," the boy said, "You can keep it."

"Well, that's mighty nice of you. You sure your mother won't mind?"

He looked up at her again from searching the dust with a pout.

"My mother is dead."

Digit's face fell like she'd been hit with a hammer. Of course it would be a story like that. It always was.

"I'm sorry to hear about that," she said softly as she crouched to be level with his line of sight, "But I'll tell you a secret…"

"Okay."

"My mom is gone, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She died a long time ago, but I think she'd be proud of me. I bet your mom would be proud of you, too. The Wastes aren't pretty, but you and your friends are being very brave."

Digit grinned as the boy puffed up and held his chin aloft valiantly.

"I'm not scared," he declared, "The raiders are bad people, and mom said bad people come to bad ends."

Digit dusted her palms with some sand and gave the horizon a cautious scan. "She's right about that. Dogmeat and I are gonna see to it, okay? We'll stop them."

"And the big man?!" the girl asked excitedly.

The woman laughed and scratched Dogmeat behind his right ear, "And the big man."

.oO-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Oo.

Charon finished off the last of what remained in his water bottle as the sun began to dip behind the ragged cliff edge to the west. Despite the heat waves warping in the distance, he knew it would be getting dark soon - and cold. He and Digit would have to make for cover before the raiders had a chance to catch up. Without the sun's oppression to slow them down, they'd start moving a lot faster.

He was trying his memory of previous travels for a nearby safe spot when Dogmeat bounded up and lapped at the ruined hand resting across one of his bent knees. Without taking his eyes off the brown expanse of the wastes, he rested his free hand on the animal's head. The other held his shotgun.

"The caravanners are all packed up now," Digit's voice drifted up on the wind from somewhere behind him, "And I'm ready to go if you are."

Her footsteps approached with soft crunches until she was close enough to put her hand on his shoulder. The contact made the ghoul jerk. Even through his thick leathers, he swore he could feel the surface of her flawless palms.

"Oh - right," he muttered as stood and slung his shotgun over his broad shoulders, "I was just thinking about that."

"And?"

"Best bet is slightly north of here - just over that rise. Figure we should hole up before our friends get here."

"Good call," Digit said as she tried to spot the landmark Charon was indicating. As usual, she could see no such feature in the filthy brown expanse, but she figured if the man had been a ghoul for long, he already knew his eyesight was better than a human's. She gave a light sigh that drew his attention.

"You haven't already gotten attached to these people have you?" he asked quietly.

"No," she told him as she jerked her thumb towards a blonde-haired girl trying unsuccessfully to keep hidden behind a rock not far from them, "But I think someone's gotten attached to you."

Charon's milky blue eyes flicked over to the child. When she noticed him looking at her, her head ducked down quickly. Despite the meager cover, the sound of girlish giggling made it's way to the ghoul's sharp ears. His face contorted in confusion as he looked back to Digit.

"I think you have a fan," she said with a grin.

"That's not funny, Digit," he said levelly.

The woman laughed and threw her arms wide.

"Hey, don't look at me, man," she rebuffed, "Maybe if kids didn't read those stupid comics they wouldn't be looking for a prince in all the wrong places."

Digit began trekking in the direction Charon had given, leaving him to contemplate just what the woman's words were supposed to mean. As if sensing his thoughts, Dogmeat brushed against his leg with a whine.

"We're a couple suckers aren't we?" he asked the mangy animal. Dogmeat lapped at his mouth with a rough, pink tongue and eyed the ghoul blankly.

"Don't worry," Charon told him, "Your mistress thinks she's tough, but if she didn't need our help she wouldn't keep us around." He gave Dogmeat a sympathetic scratch and observed the slim figure wandering away from them. "Princess Wasteland needs her entourage."


	3. Styx and Stones

**Author's Notes: **For some reason, the Doc manager has been going batshit on me tonight so there may be some formatting errors in this chapter for which I apologize. Also, I'm tired and have to work tomorrow so I haven't done a thorough proofreading of this chapter, but I figured people would want something to read on their weekend anyway. Please let me know if you spot any errors.

**All Who Wander**

**Chapter Two**

When Charon returned from scouting the perimeter of the white-washed lean-to that would serve as the nights campsite, he found Digit sitting cross-legged in the dirt, counting out rounds for her SMGs magazine. She was working quietly - thoughtfully he guessed - so he decided to take it upon himself to begin preparing their evening meal.

As he gathered brush into a tarnished waste bin to start a fire, he managed to steal a few covert glances at his meditative employer. It was then he noted a behavior that disturbed him, if only because he'd seen it countless times before in ghouls that had reached the breaking point of going feral. Digit's lips twitched as if in speech, yet no sound escaped her and her eyes never left her loading. The sight sent a shuddering chill up his spine and called forth unpleasant memories of his time in Underworld.

Before Digit had declared his liberation, he'd sit in The Ninth Circle everyday, watching the locals retreat further and further into the oblivion of their own minds until they were too far gone to connect anymore. Once that happened, it didn't take long for the violence to start, or for the museums residents to force Ahzrukhal into action. He'd order Charon out into an unoccupied area of the museum with the unpleasant task of putting the mad ghoul out of his or her misery - just one quick shot to the back of the head without so much as a burial. It was why the people of Underworld avoided him. It was why they called him Charon. And as he watched Digit mimic the familiar motion, he realized it was part of why he was so careful around her.

She was a constant reminder of his condition, what with her smooth skin and soft hair. He hadn't seen a human in years before she came walking into Underworld's dingy dive bar, and he'd forgotten how different they looked - _how fragile_. There was no telling when or if he'd go feral as so many others of his kind did, and despite all her tactics and Tommy guns, he wasn't sure Digit could withstand him if he did.

He rubbed his temples and tried to force the negative thoughts from his mind. None of it mattered now; he didn't work for Ahzrukhal anymore. He worked for someone with a conscience, and even though Digit wasn't perfect - who in the Wasteland really was - she _was_ honest. And she never made him do any dirty work. In fact, she barely _made_ him do anything at all. His hand ran through what was left of his ragged hair and he sighed. He wasn't going to let his fears distract him from his duties. He couldn't.

Just as he managed to get a hold of himself, the smell of roasting meat brought Digit out of her reverie. Even from the other side of the crackling fire, the ghoul could hear the rumble of her stomach. She looked at him, blinked once, then set her ammo aside.

"What are we having?" she asked.

"Leftover mole rat," he answered.

"Oh goodie," Digit said sarcastically as she crept over to him with her pack in hand, "I'm starving."

She plopped down next to him in a cloud of dust and dug around in her much-mended satchel until she produced a can of beans and a badly damaged Swiss army knife. After several minutes of struggling with the two items, the woman finally gave up the knife and smashed the can against a rock with a annoyed grunt. The weakened lid split upon impact and Charon watched with amusement as Digit's mouth went wide in one of her trademark grins of supreme smugness. She removed the serrated lid from the can gingerly, then buried the bottom halfway into the hot ash at the edge of the fire to heat.

"There," she said with a self-satisfied sigh, "Now all we need is something to drink and we'll have a proper meal. What do you want, Charon? Water or cola?"

"Whatever you want is fine with me, Dij, but let me open the bottle this time okay?" he replied. The woman shrugged at his request and resumed fumbling around in her belongings. The ghoul shook his head in mild disbelief as she did so.

It never ceased to amaze him that despite nearly six months outside the vault she grew up in, Digit still clung to certain aspects of old-fashioned civility. She insisted that every dinner consist of a main dish, a side, and a beverage. Breakfast or lunch could run short or be skipped altogether, but dinner had to be just so. As luck would have it, they almost always managed to scrounge up enough food to meet her strict demands.

"Aww," Digit whined as she withdrew a Nuka-cola from her bag, "This is our last one…I guess we'll just have to share it, but don't you give me any crap about cooties!"

Charon's mottled face formed a frown at her outburst.

"Sorry," she apologized, "Bad memories of Butch DeLoria."

"One of your friends from the vault I take it?"

"Something like that," she said with a wave of her hand, "I broke one my knuckles punching him in the face once…"

The ghoul's frown instantly turned to a smirk.

"Have you always been such a tom-boy, Digit?" he asked.

The woman laughed and stamped her combat boots against the ground a few times. When her fit of mirth subsided, she leaned over to him with that disarming grin of hers.

"What do you think?" she countered.

Charon's smile faded and he turned away to poke at the fire quietly.

"I think you're something else, Digit," he said softly after a short span of silence, "Something else entirely…"

"Yeah? Like what?"

He continued to tend the fire, pretending he hadn't heard her. The small lump rising in his throat told him he might have said too much already. Digit was either fooled or unbothered by his act, because the next thing out of her mouth went in a decidedly different direction than the rest of their discussion.

"Will you tell me something about yourself Charon?"

"If you wish…"

"Were you really brainwashed as a kid? 'cause Ahzrukhal said you were, but I think he's full of shit. Of course, I think everyone is full of shit so coming from me that doesn't necessarily mean anything. It's just that you seem too smart and independent to have spent your whole life as a slave."

Charon considered what she was asking in silence as the fire threw warped shadows across the walls of the small shack. His past wasn't something he normally talked about, but as his current employer, Digit was entitled to know. Besides, if he refused to answer on his own, she could compel him to do so anyway. He cleared his throat in resignation and had just opened his mouth to speak when he heard a sound from somewhere outside their camp. Dogmeat must have heard it too, because he suddenly lifted his head from where he'd been resting on the opposite side of the fire.

"What's the matter?" Digit asked in concern.

"There's something out there," Charon warned as he reached for his shotgun. Digit made for her own weapon as he glanced out of the sizeable hole in the shacks crumbling eastern wall. He couldn't see anything among the debris of what was once a small town center, but when Dogmeat took to his feet with a growl and dashed out, the ghoul followed him cautiously. About halfway down the east-west avenue of the nearest intersection, Charon spotted the cause of the ruckus and dropped his weapon to his side. Dogmeat, too, had a change of heart, and began sniffing the wandering Brahmin excitedly.

"Goddamnit, cow," the ghoul hissed, "You couldn't have wandered into somebody else's camp tonight?"

The ghoul heard Digit coming up behind him, and he turned to her with an indignant look on his face. When she glanced over his shoulder to see what had Dogmeat's attention, she broke out into laughter.

"Oh Charon…you heard something alright," she goaded, "A heifer in heat! Hah!"

She bounded up to the lost animal and walked a circle around it.

"She's not hurt at all," Digit called out to Charon, "Probably just hungry."

The woman shooed Dogmeat away and stroked the cows head a few times.

"Look lady," she said to it, "All we've got is week-old mole rat, so you better skiddaddle before you start looking good to me, 'kay? And get a cowbell so next time we run into you Charon'll know you're coming. Hah!"

She led the animal away by its tattered harness and freed it at the edge of the town remains. It continued in the appointed direction mindlessly, and she turned back towards the camp in triumph. As usual, Charon wasn't far behind her so she gave him a fat grin.

"See? Who says you have to solve all your problems with guns?" she joked.

"Look who's talking Miss Fully-Automatic," he shot back.

"Hah," she laughed, "You're right, I have the happy trigger fingers, but no shooting poor innocent Brahmin okay? I'll tell you what though, if that guy with the Magnum ever pops out from nearby rocks again, feel free to fill him full of buckshot. He damn near gave me a heart attack last time…"

.oO-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Oo.

Cold - it was the way the dream always began; with rivers of icy water crashing down from somewhere so high up in the gloom that engulfed him that he couldn't spot the source. It would rush around his ankles, numbing his feet, and continue to rise until it flooded up to his knees. His breath formed fog in front of his face, and no matter how far he trudged through the murky water, there was no land. Sometimes he thought he saw a dark, narrow craft bobbing on the surface of the water ahead of him, but no amount of effort drew it any closer. It was forever in the distance, just at the edge of his eyesight.

He would wander in that watery grave for what seemed like an eternity before the grotesque monument at the center of Underworld would suddenly appear in his path from out of nowhere. It would emerge from the dark river in stages; rivulets of water running down the writhing human forms like blood. The stone was living flesh in his dream, and the tormented always wore the faces of those he had slain. They stared at him with empty eye sockets - accusing, mocking and hating him. Their lips formed strangled curses. And then the bodies would arrive…

Bloated and decaying corpses would begin to drift towards him, heedless of the rivers tide. An endless stream of them kept coming from somewhere deeper in the darkness until their stench was too much for him to bear. He would cover his nose and mouth to block out the over-ripe smell of death, but it always overwhelmed in the end. The bile in his stomach would rise until it forced him into retching - right onto the lifeless face of a young girl. He would push her hair back and try to rinse her face in horror, only to find Digit's muddy hazel eyes looking back at him.

The ghoul woke with a start that brought Dogmeat padding over from were he'd been enjoying the last bits of warmth from the fading cook fire. Charon tried to catch his breath and take stock as the images from his dream began to dissipate. He immediately looked over to where Digit had unrolled her blankets after dinner and found her still sleeping soundly, albeit one booted foot was a touch too close to the fire pit. He sighed in relief and rose as quietly as possible to tuck her sprawling limb back under her blanket. After making sure he hadn't woken her, he went back to his own bed and stripped off the dirty shirt that his nightmare had caused him to soak with sweat. He hands shook as he pulled on a fresher garment, and they stopped only after he'd spent ten minutes or so giving Dogmeat a series of reassuring pats.

"It's okay boy," he whispered, "I'm fine alright? Go keep Digit warm."

The dog did as he was told and curled up at the base of the woman's makeshift pallet. The ghoul on the other hand, continued to sit stock-still on a rock to await the sunrise. There would be no more sleep for him that night.


	4. Ghoulface

**Author's Notes - **Huzzah! Another chapter! Charon and Digit put the smack-down on Evergreen Mills, and Charon gets a little insight to Digit's biggest weakness.

**All Who Wander**

**Chapter Three**

Three figures moved unseen across the rocky cliffs surrounding Evergreen Mills; scouting the perimeter while the raiders inside slept on in oblivion. The soft light of morning limned their silhouettes against a brightening blue sky, but not even the caged super mutant at the center of the camp took notice. Evergreen Mills was a ghost town, and the shadows haunting the steep stone slopes above were getting ready to wake the dead.

"Three-Dog's report didn't say anything about a behemoth in the area," Digit observed as she eyed the lumbering creature, "How are we supposed to sneak in there without tipping that brute off?"

"Maybe we won't have to," Charon replied thoughtfully as he scanned the area for the tenth time, "There's no way for us to know how many raiders are holed up in those shacks, Dij. Might be better to draw them out rather than go in."

"You have a plan?" the woman asked. The ghoul smirked a bit and crouched closer to her. It pleased him to no end that he finally had a employer that valued his opinion, and, more importantly, put his skills to good use. He'd always suspected Ahzrukhal never really knew what he had in his ghoul bodyguard. Maybe the man didn't care. He'd been willing to sell Charon's contract, after all. Charon knew Digit found the whole exchange rather amusing, as she remarked from time to time how Ahzrukhal had gotten the raw end of the deal. "Man doesn't understand the true value of things," she'd say. Charon found himself agreeing with her more and more as they encountered - and conquered - the multitude of dangers presented by the Wastes.

"What we need is a distraction," he explained, gesturing to the camp below, "Do you see that guardhouse a ways down?"

"Yeah."

"I think I can reach it without trouble. If I can get in there and take out the guards while you cross to the gorge on the other side, we can trap them inside the camp. I'll set an explosion to get everyone awake, then start picking them off from up here when they come running out to see whats going on."

"Fish in a barrel, huh?" the woman clucked, "Serves 'em right for penning people up like they do."

Charon gave a grim nod before continuing. "When you come up the railway entrance, you can force them over here. None of them will want to approach rapid fire if they can duck and cover, and when they do, their backs will be to me, you see?"

"I got it, but what do we do if they decide to open that things cage? There are slaves down there."

"I doubt that'll happen. Especially since Ill be out of reach and your machine gun will be blocking the only exit. They'd be trapped."

"Good point, but raiders aren't known for brains."

"It'll be a risk no matter how we approach it," the ghoul pointed out, "There's no way to get to the mutant without taking the raiders out first."

"Yeah," Digit sighed as she chewed a dirty fingernail through her fingerless leather gloves, "I guess you're right. Whatda you think, Meat?"

The scruffy dog busy snuffling around the edge of the cliff turned and gave his mistress a blank stare. Digit huffed and blew a strand of hair out of her face. "'kay, fine. We'll do it your way, Charon. How much ammo do you have left?"

"Plenty of shells, but give me a few grenades will you? Need to make enough noise to get these bastards up and running."

Digit complied with the ghoul's request and offered him a half-dozen grenades in good condition. She closed her leather ammo-case and stashed it behind a rock with an odd shape so she could find it again.

"Be careful crossing over," Charon warned, "Give me a signal when you're ready for me to go in."

"I'll use my mirror, 'kay?"

"Take Dogmeat, too. He'll come in handy in case the raiders get too bold and try to rush you."

Digit leaned to the side so that her shoulder tapped Charon's in a show of camaraderie. "I'll be fine. You're a better shot than me, so it makes sense for you to take the high ground. I'll funnel them over and retreat if it gets too hot. Simple."

The woman stood up and brushed off the bottom of her pants. Dogmeat joined her as she loaded a full cartridge into her SMG.

"Better go now. Before the sun gets too high and they start waking up on their own," she said, "See you on the other side, ghoulface."

Charon's earlier smirk faded as he watched her disappear into the distant edges of the camp. _Ghoulface. _She'd called him that before, and still he didn't know how to react to it. While Digit's love of nicknames was obvious in the way she addressed her pet, he couldn't tell whether his was one of affection or ridicule. In his heart, he suspected it was a mix of both; that he was something of a novelty to her. She probably hadn't even known what a ghoul was before leaving that vault, and thus had no prejudiced opinions about them. At the same time though, it meant she might perceive them more as part of the landscape than as individuals. As something inconsequential that was shut out once and could be shut out again if need arose.

Despite his concerns, the nagging thoughts always faded in comparison to the welcome feel of her closeness. How every slap on the back, supportive hand and brush of the shoulders came without hesitation or pretense. She actually seemed _comfortable_ around him; casual in behavior and open in conversation. It was starting to wear off on him, too. Even though it'd taken him sitting up all night alone in the dark to realize it, he knew that last night, by the fire, he'd _wanted _to tell Digit about himself. He had wanted to hear what she had to say about his past; to know how she would feel about his secrets. Maybe, just maybe, to have received a few words or gestures of comfort.

And then she had to go and call him ghoulface and light all the old fires of worry every ghoul knew by heart...

.oO-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Oo.

Digit's signal took longer to come than he'd anticipated, and only after she had crept around the camp for awhile on her own. The ghoul could see her burnt red hair even from his high vantage point, and he cursed under his breath at her daring. What was she doing? She was supposed to wait on the outer fringes until he'd set off an explosion near the guardhouse. Even as he grew antsy at her antics, he held his ground. The pair had been traveling together long enough to build up some trust - the kind that ignored the laws already written into his contract. There was a reason for Digit's behavior. He just wished she'd had a way of making him aware of it first.

At long last, his patience paid off and his partner below crept back into a hiding place inside a burned out boxcar to the northeast side of camp. Not long after, he saw the flash of sunlight off the strategically placed mirror shard she always kept on hand. It was time to move.

The ghoul slung his shotgun over his shoulder and began a slow decent down the path he'd picked out while waiting for Digit to get in place. Pebbles and bits of sand slid down the rocky precipice as he descended, but their hushed whisper did little to alert his prey in the shack below. He grit his teeth when a particularly sharp rock cut through his left glove, and he had to struggle to keep from wiping at the sweat that had begun running down the back of his neck. It made an uncomfortable tickling sensation, but he knew letting go for so much as a second could cause him to go careening down the side of the cliff. Digit wouldn't have much use for a heap of broken bones.

He made it to the guardhouse outcropping just as the sun peeked over the slopes and into the valley. A quick scan of the camp told him they were still safe, so he proceeded to the shacks entrance quietly. As he drew near, he could hear the sound of snoring and radio static. Upon pushing the door in slowly, he could see two men inside, both asleep on badly stained cots. The ghoul stalked close enough to pull a discarded pillow over the first man's face. He woke almost instantly and began to struggle, but the lack of air and Charon's heavy knee on his chest made his effort for naught. Charon took the pillow away when the man's eyes rolled into the back of his head and watched him expire quietly. It was far more merciful a death than the slaver deserved as far as he was concerned. His suffocation of the second man took a bit more effort. The raider was larger than the first, and had been in the process of waking up when the ghoul attacked him. He was taking too long to die, so Charon finally drew his combat knife and slit the man's throat. The desperate gurgling sounds he made sounded like the wounded warbles of ferals. The ghoul comforted himself with the reminder that unlike the ferals, this man deserved his fate.

Once he'd done a quick search of the place, he exited the shack and threw a flash of sun back Digit's way. She responded, and he pulled the pin from his first grenade. The chaos that ensued would have the Capitol Wasteland talking for weeks.

.oO-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Oo.

Charon's blast served as intended, but to his shock and surprise, a whole host of other explosions followed his in near-perfect succession. As the smoke cleared, he saw mutilated bodies piled outside the now-blackened doorways of the raiders rough-hewn shelters. When Digit rolled out from her boxcar and started firing on the survivors it hit him - landmines. She'd been planting landmines right on their doorsteps! The ghoul discovered a whole new level of respect for the girl as she forced raiders his way with wide sprays from her machine gun. He fired off at a couple quick-thinkers that were making their way up the ramp to his location first, then worked on taking out those that were closest to Digit.

The only breaks in her oppressive fire were pauses to reload. When a raider got up the gumption to interrupt her, he got an empty cartridge to the face and Dogmeat's teeth around his neck. New ammo secured, she shot him full of holes before turning back to tighten the noose on the other panicking psychopaths.

Bodies piled up rapidly, with the super mutant bellowing in contempt at the contraption that kept it from joining the fight the entire time. The echo of screams and explosions rattled the bowl and sent rocks tumbling loose; sometimes right into the raiders who once viewed them as protection against invaders. So much good it did them. Combat had begun and ended before the sun reached its zenith. Charon met Digit on the ground level to release the captured slaves and help finish off any raiders that had taken to hiding. By the time the dust had cleared, Evergreen Mills was a ghost town once more.

"Where'd you get the mines, Dij?" Charon asked her as they searched the camp for supplies and wounded survivors.

"From the railway in the gorge," she replied smugly, "Had a whole mess of 'em littered there. I thought they might want 'em back..."

The ghoul gave her an appreciative grin. "Good thinking. Probably cut our opposition in half."

"And to think," Digit joked, "My dad thought my interest in demolitions would never amount to anything. Hah! Shows him, huh?"

Charon thought he heard a twinge of bitterness in her voice, but he decided now was not the time to bring it up. They needed to salvage what they could use and patch each other up a bit first. No sense in opening old wounds when there were more immediate ones that required attention.

"That raider almost got you, didn't he Dij?" he asked as he drew closer to her for inspection.

"Grazed my arm," she replied as she tilted it to get a better look, "Stings a little, but not a bad hurt. Dogmeat got him a lot worse than he did me. Didn't ya, Meat?"

The animal perked his ears and gave an excited bark in affirmation. Digit grinned and stroked his ears while the super mutant rumbled in agitation.

"Oh, shut up!" Digit yelled as she picked up a can and threw it at the rickety cage. Her missile bounced weakly off the electric current being fed to the fence by a nearby generator, but it did shut the creature up. For a moment at least.

"Goddamn, that thing is loud," she complained once it'd start up again, "We need to get it taken care of or it's gonna start drawing attention."

Charon pumped his shotgun. "Ill take care of it, Dij."

"'kay," she agreed, "I'll see which shack is the most decent and clear it out so we can sleep indoors tonight. That'll be a luxury, huh?"


End file.
